is on the telephone pole as you turn onto my street! At
least I only noticed it today. This poster is just like the others
with a blurred phone #...I told the story to a friend of mine
and she asked me to write somemore. As I am writing now,
I am sobbing uncontrolabe...remembering that feeling of not
being able to connect...that awful feeling of loss. I am remembering
when my son left for India the first or was it the second or third
time? It wasn't that day but maybe a week later I saw someone
who looked just like him walking down the street. Young, tall,
thin with long hair and a back pack. He looked carefree and on
his way to somewhere. This sobbing is like the feeling I've had
when my dad died and then again when I lost my mom. I am
remembering the inabillity to hear their voice or look into their
eyes. He's gone. He's really gone, it's like he's dead and it hurts.
I know it's just a feeling, a remembering but still it hurts. Funny
thing is, my son is sitting in my kitchen right now (on the floor)
drinking a smoothie and I asked him to go take a look at the
sign on the corner and he looked up at me and said: "No. I'm
drinking my smoothie right now!" Well I'm not sobbing
right now as I'm reading my notes from yesterday and I understand
all about "anicha" impermanence. At this moment I am happy
and feeling really good. Actually it's kind of fun to be inspired by something and write about it. This year Shane returns to India, trip # 7.
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